


To Grandmother's Secret Lab We Go

by StringedVictory



Category: Narbonic, Skin Horse (Webcomic)
Genre: Background Helen/Dave, Background Mell/Caliban, Canon-Typical Violence, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringedVictory/pseuds/StringedVictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While playing host to the Narbons, Mell gets tracked down by a relative... of sorts. But hers isn't the only unexpected family reunion in store, and soon the whole crew is on a cross-country Narbon-vs.-Narbon chase. Blood may be thicker than water, but are nanites thicker than blood?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiraMira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, MiraMira! I'm so glad to see Narbonic and Skin Horse getting some love. I hope I've managed to come even within shouting distance of capturing the delightful wackiness of the Narboniverse. Enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta (no, not Helen Beta), LeaperSonata, who deserves all of the credit for the doorbell gag.

It was a stormy evening, late one December. The snow had long since given way to a drizzle punctuated intermittently by the sort of lightning that resourceful scientists once found appropriate for giving life to creative perversions of nature. Helen Narbon, true to the scientific spirit running deep in her bones, was taking advantage of the occasion to write up a few notes on just such a creation.

Her latest project, however, had long since passed the _it’s-aliiiive_ stage and progressed straight to being stuffed with herbs and breadcrumbs. She kept her biochemical data on a series of index cards jammed into a box marked “Recipes.”

“Who wants the last drumstick?” called Helen, waving a near-empty platter under her daughter’s nose.

Rosalind made a face and pushed her plate away. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“Rosalind!” Dave shot her an admonishing glance. “Your mother went to a lot of trouble developing that turkey genome so we could _all_ have drumsticks. The least you could do is be grateful.”

She sighed. “Sorry, Mom.”

Artie smiled. “There’s still plenty of tempeh loaf.”

“Now _that_ stuff is some seriously twisted science.” Dave poked at it with a fork.

“Coffee’s ready,” said Caliban, striding in with a fresh carafe. “I’m working on a new drink recipe for the shop. I call it the Mocha Inferno. Care to try one?”

“Ooh, I wanna try!” Rosalind’s eyes lit up.

“Not till you’re older,” said Helen firmly. “You’ll have plenty of time to drink coffee when you’re running your own lab.”

“But _Moooom_ ,” Rosalind protested.

“Sorry, old bean,” said Caliban. “I know enough not to cross your mother.”

The doorbell rang, stumbling over “Thriller” as though someone were leaning on the button.

“Cal, can you get it?” called Mell from the living room. “I’ve got to abort the - _ow!_ \- auto-destruct sequence on the tree lights.”

Caliban set down the carafe. “All right, love."

“Ooh, more visitors!” said Helen, clapping her hands together in excitement.

From the foyer came a startled yelp identifiable as Caliban’s. He returned looking puzzled. “Mell, someone here to see you,” he called.

Mell strode in wiping grease from her hands. “Fixed ‘em! Who’s at the door?”

“She says she’s from the government. Got quite a bit of a Frankensteinian look about her, if that rings any bells.”

Mell frowned. “The government? I don’t remember any-“

Helen cut in. “Frankensteinian? Do tell!”

Caliban shrugged. “Lots of stitches, patchwork skin. She appears to have a bear paw for a trigger hand. _And_ she said the laser-sighted defense system on our porch was, ah, ‘totally rad’-“ Caliban set off the remark with air quotes- “ and flashed it a thumbs-up straight at the camera.”

“Hmmm.” Helen furrowed her brow. “Sounds like she could be-“

Mell stood, cutting her off. “Trigger hand?”

“Yes, she’s got a rather large gun and a few smaller ones in belt holsters.”

“Oh dang, I gotta meet this chick!” Mell made for the hall closet, examined its selection of weaponry, and selected an elaborate item covered in dials, gauges and Cyrillic lettering.

Helen brightened. “Oh! Now I think I remember. They sent that paper to me for peer review, but I told them I had a conflict of interest.”

“Okay, maybe this Christmas can still beat last year’s,” said Rosalind, still staring in the direction Mell had gone.

“Hello?” Mell threw the door open and hoisted her weapon.

“Hi! I’m from the government! Are you Melody Wildflower Kelly?”

Mell looked the young woman over, from her single blonde pigtail and Afro-puff, to the bear paw Caliban had mentioned, to her suspiciously-stained high-tops. She was grinning broadly – a grin that, despite her impressive arsenal, seemed less malicious than friendly.

Mell lowered her gun cautiously. “Uh, yep. Not so loud with my middle name, okay?” She pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it over. “Are you with the public defender, or-“

“SIS! It _is_ you!” Mell found her arms pinned to her sides in a crushing hug and her weapon slipping from her hand to the floor. “Oh man, this is gonna be great. What do you want to do first, go ammo shopping or paint our nails? Ooh, or we could get takeout. Do you have HBO?”

“Hang on a second.” Mell writhed out of the stranger’s grasp. “Did you call me ‘sis’? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You mean you don’t know? I’m your clone!” she shrieked. “I mean, my brain is. I mean, I’m a zombie, except I’m really a nano-ooze, but I needed a body that could handle my awesomeness, and-“

“Helen?” Mell called over her shoulder.

“Yes?” Helen strode into the foyer. “Where are your manners, Mell? Why don’t you invite Project UNITY in for dessert?”

“Just call me Unity. Got any pie?” said Unity, taking off her jacket.

“Apple and pumpkin.” Helen slammed the door closed. “Mell, you’ll like this story. Can’t imagine why it slipped my mind!” She beckoned the two of them into the dining room.

“Okay,” said Mell, offering the newcomer a chair. “You seem pretty badass, but I still have no idea who you are or why you’re in my house. Start at the beginning.”

“Like, how far back?” Unity accepted a slice of pie from Helen and began to smother it in whipped cream.

“Like the part where I got cloned.” Mell poured herself a glass of wine.

“Well, there’s this scientist, Dr. Lee. She’s kind of a buzzkill. But we’re cool now. Anyway, she had a government grant to make the ultimate weapon” – Unity’s eyes began to light up - “so she makes a nanobot army with kill-urges, pretty sweet. And she wants to build a body for ‘em. You know, stitched together parts, big ol’ slab, mwhahahaha, that whole deal. Only they keep shorting out from all the awesome. So she buys a sample of DNA from a “top assassins” database, clones a new brain, stitches up some new squishy corpse-parts, injects the nanobots, and boom! Zombie mayhem machine!” She aimed both thumbs at her chest and beamed.

Mell blinked. “And the DNA was mine?”

“Yup. So you must be, like, super-badass. Runs in the family.”

“Awww, thanks!” Mell’s frown of confusion unfurled itself into a smile and then began to reverse. “Wait, so how’d you find me?”

“Oh! Right. So, now I work for the government,” Unity replied through a mouthful of pie, “helpin’ out non-human sapients and stuff. It’s pretty sweet. I get to shoot people and notarize documents! Sometimes at the same time! Anyway, I had a coupla days of paid time off still left at the end of the year. And my roommate was all ‘find your roots, eh.’” She had slipped momentarily into what Mell guessed was supposed to be a Canadian accent. “And I got this other friend who’s a hacker dude, and he told me he could find the name of the assassin I was cloned from, and it turns out you’re pretty close to Washington! So here I am!”

“Wow. I, uh. I don’t know what to say.”

“How about, 'Sure, Unity, why don’t you stay until New Year’s?' Cause my boss already gave me the days off. And she’s an actual swarm of angry bees.”

“Um…” Mell looked into Unity’s wide, hopeful eyes. “Oh, what the hell. I’m sure we can find room for one more on the couch.”

“Yay!” cheered Unity. “This is gonna be awesome!” She gave Mell another bear hug. “So, who’s all these guys?

“Well, this is my husband Caliban.”

Unity gave Caliban a fist-bump. “Boss! Is he a lawyer-assassin too?”

“No, but he used to be a demon.”

“Now I run a coffee shop,” said Caliban, beaming with pride.

“Oh, _rock_. I don’t know what’s better, demons or caffeine!” Unity took a swig from the nearest coffee mug, which happened to be Dave’s.

“And these are the Narbons. Dave and I both used to work for Helen,” said Mell, gesturing.

“So you married your henchman? That’s nasty in the coolest possible way!”

“Who’re you calling a henchman?” said Dave, shaking Unity’s hand. “I’ve got my own lab now!

“Hi!” said Rosalind. “I’m Rosalind! I’m not a clone, I just look like my mom. Wanna meet Blossom? She’s my pet-“

“Unity can meet Blossom later, sweetie,” said Helen. “She just got here.”

Artie came up the basement steps with an armload of suspiciously uniform pieces of wood. “Who’s ready for an eco-friendly Yule Log? I brought a- hang on, I know you.”

“Yup!” said Unity. “I’m Unity, from Project Skin Horse. You’re the gerbil man, so these must be your creators!”

“Right,” said Artie, tugging at his collar. “I know your agency and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but-“

“Aw, relax! No official stuff, I’m just here to eat candy canes by the box. Want me to say hi to Tip for you when I get back?”

“Oh,” said Artie with a sigh of relief. “No, in that case, that’s fine.”

The doorbell rang again, chiming out a tinny rendition of “The Addams Family.”

“I’ll get it,” said Dave. “Maybe it’s UPS.”

“They haven’t delivered here since the holiday-sweater incident,” said Caliban, with a glance at Rosalind.

“I don’t think I’ve heard about this one,” said Helen, folding her arms.

Rosalind groaned. “ _Moooom_ , the delivery guy was fine in like three days. And Mell said it was the best present she ever got!”

“I said what?” spluttered Mell.

“Maybe they changed their minds,” suggested Dave as he headed for the door.

“More mulled wine?” said Helen hastily, offering a ladleful to Unity.

“What’s this I hear about wine?” bellowed a voice from the foyer. “And to think I wasn’t invited?”

“Good grief,” said Artie.

“Aspirin,” groaned Helen.

“Huh? Who’s that?” Unity whirled around.

“Grandma!” Rosalind’s face split into a grin.

Helen Alpha Narbon stormed into the dining room, peeled off an immense coat composed of what appeared by Unity’s best estimate to be at least five different furs, and flung it into Caliban’s arms.

“You’re welcome, I’m sure,” said Caliban with a coldness he hadn’t used much since leaving the eternal-torment business.

“Come here, Roz, and give your grammy a kiss.” Rosalind strode up and gave a practiced peck on the cheek to Dr. Narbon, who stood back and watched her expectantly for a long moment. “Well?”

Rosalind beamed. “This year I made sure my chapstick has antidotes to your five favorite brands of poisoned face powder.”

“That’s my girl!” She ruffled Rosalind’s hair. “And Melody, you’re looking lovely. Glowing, even. Heh, heh.”

"Glowing?" said Mell. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know. It’s about time you started passing on those fantastic genes of yours.”

Dave frowned. “Since when are you such a big fan of doing things the old-fashioned way?”

“Dave, even I’d have branched out from cloning if I had access to demon semen. Heh heh. Think of the data.” She winked at Caliban, then turned to Rosalind. “But don’t worry, pumpkin, I’m sure you’ll be able to take over the world just fine even if you’re only half Narbon. Still runs in the family!”

Caliban was still gaping. “Demon semen? Did she really- Mell, are you going to just stand there and-“

Artie wedged himself into the foyer between Dr. Narbon and the Kellys. “I have an idea!” he said a little more exuberantly than necessary. “How about we all sit down to a nice plate of vegan ginger snaps? They’re great paired with chai.” He glanced over his shoulder at Helen, who hadn’t gotten up from the table, and Unity, who had been watching awestruck the entire time. “I’ll put the kettle on! How many cups?”

Dr. Narbon pushed past him. “None of the soft stuff for me, sweet cheeks. Where’s Beta?”

“Mother, why do you always do this?” Helen had her face buried in her hands. “This isn’t even my house.”

“Aw, Beta, can’t I get a hello?” She helped herself to the remainder of Helen’s wineglass. “Or an introduction?” She gestured at Unity.

“Uh, hi.” Unity fiddled with the zipper of her sweatshirt. “I’m Unity. I’m not exactly Miss Manners, but I figured I didn’t wanna butt in earlier.”

“That’s all right, kiddo, I’m just being polite. I know all about you. Heh heh.”

“Huh?” Unity looked puzzled. “You sure? I think I’d remember you.”

“Of course I’m sure. Why else would I come all this way just to see you?”

“What?” said Unity and Helen in near-perfect unison, although Helen’s tone was the more incredulous.

“You heard me, Beta. I have some friends who are very interested in Unity here.”

Unity jabbed a dessert fork in Dr. Narbon’s direction. “What kinda friends? ‘Cause I’m not a fan of gettin’ locked up and dissected and stuff. At least not by strangers.”

“Heh heh. Nothing like that, kiddo. I think you’d like them.”

“Oh yeah? Who are you working for?”

“Sorry, kid. Classified.”

“Well, your super-secret friends are gonna have to get in line. Cause today I’m hanging out with my long-lost secret clone sister Mell.”

Dr. Narbon sighed. “I was afraid of that. Well, nice chatting with you all.”

“ _Thank_ you, Mom,” snapped Helen, pushing Dr. Narbon by the shoulders. “Why don’t you go find some nice bartender to terrorize?”

“Don’t worry, Beta, I know when I’m not wanted,” she sniffed. “Guess I’ll be on my way.” She pulled a compact mirror from her purse. “As soon as I’ve adjusted my concealer. Heh heh.”

Mell looked over from the corner where she and Caliban had been talking quietly. “Wait a second, is that-“

A blinding flash ensued, followed by dense clouds of sickly sweet magenta smoke. Helen, closest to the spot, was the first to slump to the floor, followed in quick succession by the others as the drug diffused through the dining room.

When she came to, Helen was looking up into her daughter’s face.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

Helen scooped Rosalind into her arms. “Yes, sweetie, I think so. Are _you_?”

“ _Moooom_ , I’m fine.” Rosalind wiggled out of her grip. “And Unity’s gone. And so is Grandma.”

“Oh no.” Helen pinched the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t.”

“And she didn’t even bring us any presents!”


	2. Chapter 2

Helen strode up and down beside a whiteboard covered in schematics, brandishing a carving fork as a pointer.

“All right, team. We have a potential kidnapping on our hands. We have reason to suspect that my mother, Dr. Helen Alpha Narbon, is behind it. Dr. Narbon is known to be armed and dangerous. She appears to have taken Project UNITY, who is also armed-“

“-except when they’re falling off,” said Mell with a giggle.

Helen shot her a look. “-and dangerous. Now, Unity seems like a tough cookie. Ordinarily I would expect her to be able to hold her own. But this is my mother we’re talking about! Unity needs all the help she can get! We’ll need to come up with a foolproof plan. Any questions?”

Rosalind frowned. “Mom, this doesn’t sound very evil. I mean, okay, Unity’s a killer zombie and everything, but isn’t _rescuing_ people kind of…. good?”

“That’s a very good question.” She glanced from Rosalind to Dave, suddenly caught off guard. “I guess part of being an evil scientist is being prepared to strike back against an evil greater than you.”

“You mean Grandma?”

“Yes, sweetie. I mean Grandma.”

“Does this mean she won’t give me my birthday money?”

Dave cut in. “Frankly, if you impress her enough, I bet she’ll double it.”

Helen sighed. “Any other questions?”

Mell raised a hand.

“Yes, Mell?”

“Why are you using my kitchen as the war room? I have an actual war room in the basement.”

Helen blinked. “Irrelevant. All right. Now we’ll need to develop our plan of attack. I propose we-”

Mell raised a hand again.

“Yes, Mell?”

“Just so you know, I’ve got a plan. Seeing as she’s my, uh, clone-sister and all. And this is my house. And I feel sort of responsible.”

“Wait, did she just say ‘responsible’?” Dave hissed.

“Let’s hear it, then,” said Helen, ignoring him.

“Sweet! So, we’ll need some light explosives, some heavy explosives, a few canisters of poison gas, and a flamethrower just to be safe. And sidearms for everyone, duh, and I’ll bring Betsy here.” She patted her gun, eyes alight. “And obviously we’ll want night-vision goggles and-“

“Mell?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any idea where my mother went?”

Mell stopped and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “No clue. But that ought to cover the basics.”

Artie shook his head. “Any chance we can solve this diplomatically and not, say, with mindless violence?”

Mell gaped at him. “Sometimes I think we’ve known each other for years, and then you go and say something like that.”

“He’s got a point,” said Caliban. “If we try to meet Dr. Narbon with a full-on assault, we’d better be prepared for whatever she can dish out.”

“Point taken,” said Helen, “but if we don’t go in armed, we’re toast either way. Now, I’ve drawn up a list of locations where my mother has reportedly been seen. We’ll have to work on narrowing this down first.”

“Australia?” said Rosalind, peering at the list. “Cool, can we go to Australia?”

“I was hoping it would be a little closer to home than that,” admitted Helen.

“Antarctica?” Dave began to count off the possibilities on his fingers. “The Bermuda Triangle? Siberia? Helen, we’re going to be at this for weeks! Months, even!”

“Well, I don’t see anyone volunteering extra intelligence,” said Mell. “Caliban? Got any demonic favors you can call in?”

“Not a one, I’m afraid. I can’t offer much more than free cappuccino.”

“Dave? What about the Dave Conspiracy?”

“If this is a Dave Conspiracy job, it’s the first I’ve heard about it. They usually just take a long weekend this time of year.”

“Don’t tell me it’s back to the Brazilian salt mines,” Artie groaned. “I’ve been trying to forget about those.”

“All right, people, focus!” snapped Helen. “We’re going to need to give it everything we’ve got, since I don’t see anyone dropping out of the sky to-”

She was interrupted by the tinkly strains of “How Much is That Doggy in the Window?”

“You sure we wanna get that?” said Dave. “Since it seems like every time we answer the door around here, things get messy.”

“Oh come now,” said Caliban. “Three visitors on Christmas? It’s sort of Dickensian, really.”

“Yeah, but those were, y’know, _spirits_ and stuff.”

“Your point being? I did spend thousands of years in Hell.” Caliban sounded miffed as he started for the front door.

He opened it to reveal a large, fluffy sled dog.

“Dave, have you been messing with my doorbell?” said Mell. “It’s developing a sense of humor.”

“Oops,” said Dave. “I think I might have.” 

“A puppy!” squealed Rosalind, running into the foyer. “Can we keep him?”

“Of course not,” said the dog in a slightly raspy alto. “I’m with the U.S. government, here about the disappearance of a super-soldier named Project UNITY. I understand you may be interested in her safe return. Perhaps we can work together.”

“Everybody finds my house, no problem,” griped Mell. “It’s like this address isn’t even unlisted.”

“Ms. Kelly, I presume?” said the dog. “I arrived by helicopter. A helicopter with – let’s just say better than GPS.”

“Hey Helen,” said Dave, “what was that you said about nobody dropping from-“

“I know, I know,” said Helen.

Artie strode in, munching on a cookie. “You know, if I didn’t know better I’d swear that sounded like – Sweetheart!” he exclaimed.

“Waitasec, I thought Artie liked dudes!” said Mell, puzzled.

“My _name_ is Sweetheart,” explained the dog. “Agent Captain’s Fancy Valentine Sweetheart of Project Skin Horse. UNITY is my trusted colleague,"- her voice softened- “and, more importantly, my best friend.”

“Excellent,” said Helen. “I’m pleased to see taxpayer dollars going toward the important stuff!”

“Rescuing federal agents from potentially hostile forces?”

“No, I mean killer zombies.”

“Aww!” cooed Rosalind. “We get to rescue Unity _and_ hang out with a cute puppy!”

“Miss Narbon,” said Sweetheart gruffly, “I don’t appreciate being patronized. But let the record show that I will accept one – and only one – tummy rub upon successful completion of this mission.”

“Awesome!” said Rosalind. “Do you know where Grandma took Unity?”

“I have reason to believe that I do, yes. And if I’m right, we don’t have much time. I suggest you all pack your things and follow me to my transport. He’s parked about a kilometre away.”

“Transport?” said Artie. “You mean Zerhakker?”

“Afraid so,” said Sweetheart. “I’ve told him to be on his best behavior. But he’s as invested as I am in bringing Unity back safe.”

“Hey, how do you guys know each other?” asked Mell.

“Oh, we go way back,” said Artie with a smile.

“He’s right,” said Sweetheart. “We’ve worked together more recently, but he was very helpful when I first came to the States.”

“So, where ya from?” said Mell. “Siberia maybe?”

Sweetheart bristled. “Canada, thank you very much.”

“Of course!” said Caliban. “I knew you pronounced kilometre with the proper spelling!”

“Why, thank you,” said Sweetheart. “Now let’s get moving.”

 

On the way to the landing pad, Helen and Sweetheart brought up the rear.

“You know, I know why your name rings a bell,” said Helen. “Weren’t you Artie’s roommate for a while when he lived in Berkeley?”

“Yes,” said Sweetheart. “I’ve heard a fair bit about you too. I mean, I’ve been officially briefed and everything, but Artie told me about you and Dave. I have to say, I got a little jealous. A good relationship with your folks isn’t easy to come by.”

“Oh,” said Helen, blushing slightly. “He really had good things to say?”

“More or less, and frankly a few experiments here and there aren’t so big a deal.”

“So you and your, er, creator?“

“Captain Bram’s dead,” said Sweetheart stiffly. “And things with the rest of the pack used to be a lot worse, but I still don’t see much of them. I certainly wouldn’t fly cross-country to see them unless official business was involved.”

“Oh.” Helen was silent for a moment. “If it’s any consolation – well, if you’ve been briefed, you must know the whole story about my mother.”

Sweetheart nodded. “You’re a clone.”

“Yeah. It’s not like being raised by her would have been easier otherwise, but- well, I’m an experiment, too. I can’t pretend to know exactly how you and Artie feel, but maybe… well, I can come close.”

“Thanks, Helen,” said Sweetheart, before trotting to catch up with the rest of the group. “All right, people. Mr. Zerhakker here –“ she indicated the helicopter waiting on the pad – “will brief you all and then take us to the most likely location.

“Your friend flies a helicopter?” said Rosalind. “Cool!”

“My friend _is_ a helicopter,” corrected Sweetheart. “Everybody on.”

“What took you **fandango dancers** so long?” said Nick, once all of the passengers were aboard. “This rescue **stank** has totally **flaked** with my busy schedule of watching movies and eating virtual lo mein.”

Sweetheart sighed. “Everyone, meet Nick Zerhakker of Project Skin Horse. Charming, isn’t he?”

“Ooh, nice neural interface!” cooed Helen, drumming her fingers on the jar which contained Nick’s brain.

“Hey, slow down, lady. I don’t pinch your **apps** , so hands off my brain.”

“He talks funny!” giggled Rosalind.

“He’d talk even _funnier_ if he didn’t have a filter,” grumbled Sweetheart. “Your parents ought to be grateful.”

“Oh look, Mighty Mouse came along for the ride,” snarled Nick. “You realize you’re not going to get to **shelve** anybody on this trip?”

“Hello to you too, Nick,” said Artie evenly. “I’m here to help find your colleague, just like everyone else.”

“OK, but I’m warning you, put the moves on her and she’ll bite off your **duck hat**.”

“Gentlemen,” Sweetheart cut in. “Let’s focus on the mission, shall we?”

“All right. You in the skirt, you’re Mell Kelly, right?” said Nick. “The one whose DNA they used to make Unity?”

“That’s right!”

“Says here you’re married to Coffee Demon Dude?”

“That would be me,” said Caliban with a nod.

“And I already know about the Narbons. Uh, nice to meet you guys. We’re now en route to the middle of the desert, cause you can bet your sorry **tiptoes** that’s where Dr. Narbon went.”

“And you know what my mother’s up to how, exactly?”

“Let’s just say a little bird told me she’s buddy-buddy with the people who hold Unity’s patent. And, oh yeah, mine. Really creepy shadow-gov megacorp called Anasigma. Nobody **fizzles** with these guys.”

“Anasigma?” said Mell. “I think I bought some stuff from them online once.”

“Aaand I’m forgetting, none of you weirdos even _used_ to be normal.”

“Nice work, Nick!” said Artie. “I assume Virginia tipped you off?”

“And I assume it’s none of your **rat-chewing** business – hey, it actually translated that one _back_!”

“I can’t say I’m terribly surprised to know my mother-in-law is working for Anasigma,” mused Dave, “but it does raise a few questions.”

“Like the one about how to stop her when we get there,” added Helen.

“Ooh, ooh, I know this one!” squealed Mell. “We’ll need some light explosives, some heavy explosives, a few canisters of poison gas, and a flamethrower just to be safe…”


	3. Chapter 3

“…you take one down, pass it around, eighty-three bottles of ooze on the wall,” Rosalind sang happily. “Eighty-three bottles of ooze on the wall, eighty-three bottles of ooze…”

“All right, honey,” said Helen wearily. “We’re about to land. You can stop now.”

“Awww, but I wanted to get into the negatives!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have started in the thousands,” groaned Sweetheart.

“ **Cheese and crust** , can I turn my ears back on yet?” said Nick. “Wag your tail for yes.” Sweetheart obliged.

“All right, everybody,” said Helen. “Just like we planned. Mell and I will get dropped off here and head in for reconnaissance. We’ll let you know when we want backup.”

“Roger that,” said Nick. “Try not to get hacked limb from limb or anything.”

“Give her hell for me, honey,” said Dave. He bent Helen back into a kiss while trying to ignore Mell and Caliban following suit.

“I don’t need the incentive,” Helen replied. “Rosalind, take good care of your dad for me! And stay out of trouble.”

“Mom,” said Rosalind as patiently as she could muster, “we came all this way just so we could get _into_ trouble.”

“Sharp kid,” said Nick. “You sure you made her from scratch?”

“Goodbye,” said Sweetheart firmly, “and best of luck. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

 

The noise of Nick’s rotors receded into the dark as Helen and Mell set off across the desert, garbed in Dave’s latest experimental cloaking technology.

“Well, this sure is a blast from the past, isn’t it?” Helen said brightly. “I’m even starting to get nostalgic for that sewer.”

“Funny, but I seem to remember that in the past you never let me have enough _blast_ in the first place,” said Mell.

“Yes, and seeing as we all survived your internship, I think I was justified,” said Helen. “Even Dave did, more or less.”

The first scattered few of the Anasigma buildings began to loom into view. “This place is freaky,” said Mell. “And not the fun kind. Freaky like, maybe just for knowing it exists they’re allowed to kill us, revive us, kill us again, go back in time, make sure we were never born, and then screw our grandparents.”

“That’s more or less how Sweetheart described it.”

“So which of these buildings are we looking for?”

“Nick says my mother is rumored to be using Warehouse 17 as her makeshift lab while she’s working for Anasigma. I say we start there.”

When they approached, they found the windows of Warehouse 17 to be dark and covered in plastic.

“Huh,” said Mell. “Think it’s the right place?”

“You’ve chased my mother around the world before. You tell me.”

“Well, if Unity’s around here, my guess would be she’s locked up, kicking and screaming. She didn’t seem like the type to go down without a fight.”

The door of the warehouse swung open, and a figure stepped out, lit from below.

“Evening, ladies,” said Unity. “I do hope you haven’t expended too much effort on my behalf. I think Dr. Narbon and I are developing a highly productive working relationship. Care for a nightcap while you’re here?”

“Sweetheart?” squeaked Mell into her phone. “We’re gonna need backup. Something funny’s going on.”

 

“I should have _known_ , said Sweetheart, once the reconnaissance team was safely back aboard. “I’ve seen her like this before. Of course there’s someone out there capable of exploiting it,” she added, thumping her head against a wall.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” said Dave. “Unity spends a couple hours with my mother-in-law and suddenly she’s an evil genius? You don’t catch it like the flu.”

“She’s on a brain binge,” explained Sweetheart. “Give her enough neural tissue as fuel and out comes her brilliant side. And she doesn’t just know _things_. She knows _people_. It’s – it’s a little scary, actually.”

“So why’s she still falling for Doc Narbon’s **damp-asp** game?” said Nick. “Regular Unity would do whatever dumb **spork** if there was a sandwich in it for her, but Smart Unity should be the one pwning Dr. Narbon.”

“You don’t know Helen Alpha Narbon,” Helen pointed out. “Her actual scientific output peaked with – well, with me, actually – but for an old dog, she can learn some new tricks.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. Sorry, Sweetheart.”

Sweetheart sighed. “Don’t worry, I get it all the time.”

“My point is – Mell, you don’t keep any spare brains lying around the house, do you?”

Mell shook her head. “Not last I checked.”

“So if Unity’s been hitting the brains, she must have gotten them from my mother.”

“Eeeewww,” said Rosalind.

“Not like that,” said Helen. I mean, my mother must have a supply of brains on hand so she can keep Unity smart. And if I know her, she’s also putting something into them to keep Unity loyal, too.”

“So what should we do?” said Caliban. “I mean, we can’t very well storm the place, now, can we?

“Diplomacy!” cheered Artie. “If we can negotiate with Unity, appeal to her reasoning capacities-”

“Nah,” said Mell, “I was pretty much thinking we should storm the place.” She began to hand out ammunition.

“Do we stand a chance against Dr. Narbon _and_ Smart Unity?” Dave pointed out.

“Nah, your **highnesses** are pretty much toast,” said Nick, “but since everybody’s going to be **flared** anyway if Ol’ Lady Narbon does manage to hand Unity over to A-Sig, I say go for it.”

 

“All right, Warehouse 17 take two,” said Sweetheart under her breath as they jogged back over the sand. “We get in, we tranq the zombie, we get out.”

“It sounds so _simple_ when you say it,” said Caliban.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Nick was right,” said Dave. “Our highnesses are toast.”

“Oh come on, people! We’ve dealt with this lady before!” said Mell. “At least, Artie and I have.”

“Yes, but I only survived by _accidentally turning into a gerbil_ at the right moment,” Artie grumbled, “and none of you can do that.”

“Mom, can I turn into a-“ began Rosalind.

“I know you _can’t_ ,” said Artie. “Ask your mother whether you _may_.”

“No, you may not turn into a gerbil,” said Helen. “If you can figure it out yourself when you’re older, be my guest, but I won’t do it for you.”

Warehouse 17 loomed before them again. “OK, different entrance this time,” said Mell. “She’s obviously not bothering with security, since she assumes she can take us. But it might buy us a couple seconds of time.”

“All right,” said Helen. “On the count of three. One… two…”

“Three Narbons! This should be fun,” said Dr. Narbon, opening the door quickly enough to knock Helen over. “Come on in, have some Franzia. Just don’t take my zombie, Beta.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” said Unity conversationally, leaning against a railing. “I tried to explain it to them before, but they really think their show of bravado is going to win the day.”

“Hey,” said Rosalind, sounding wounded, “I thought you were _cool_ when you came to Mell’s house and had dessert with us.”

Unity giggled. “I _am_ cool, Miss Narbon. I’m an assassin, precision-built and stress-tested, and now that I have full access to my rational faculties I can see that your grandmother can offer me things Skin Horse only dreamed of.”

“Snap out of it, Unity,” yelled Sweetheart. “You may be brilliant, but you’re also brainwashed.” 

“OK, I’m trying this my way,” said Mell, running into the lab. “You wanted sister bonding? Time to meet Betsy!” She flipped a switch marked “LASER FIRE” and began to charge Unity. 

“Cool toy,” said Unity. “In the right hands I’m sure it could do some real damage.” She ran up to Mell and flipped her onto her back just as Mell began to pull the trigger. The laser pulse left a neat burn mark on the ceiling plaster. 

“Damn,” grumbled Mell. “Caliban? Hit her with the tranq darts!” 

“I’m trying,” he called back, “but she’s weaving between Helen and Dave. Unless you’d rather I take them down too?” 

“Nah, no need,” she said. “Woulda been fun when I was an intern, but it’s kinda lost its charm.” 

“Give me the tranquilizers, Caliban!” shouted Artie. “I’ve got superhuman reflexes.” 

“So did I, once,” muttered Caliban as he handed over the gun. 

Rosalind stood in the doorway, watching Unity pick up her assailants and toss them effortlessly overhead. “Mom?” she said. “Is everything okay?” 

“Fine, sweetie,” called Helen, ducking behind a refrigerator covered in biohazard stickers. 

“Hey Roz,” called Dr. Narbon. “You’re missing all the fun! Come on up and see the lab. Remember, you don’t have to listen to Mom and Dad when you’re at Grandma’s! You can stay over Christmas break if you want!” 

“Well…” Rosalind glanced over at Helen and Dave, who were taking turns dodging blows from Unity. “I guess it couldn’t hurt just to take a look.” 

“That’s my girl!” Dr. Narbon climbed the stairs to the raised platform where most of her equipment was set up. “You can even help me work on Unity.” 

“Really?” said Rosalind, eyes alight. “Can I make her fun again?”

“If by “fun” you mean “dimwitted,” I doubt it,” called Unity between backflips. “I hope that with your lineage, you’ll realize soon enough that I’m most fun when I can take full advantage of my mental _and_ physical abilities.” She threw something Rosalind couldn’t identify at Caliban, who yelped when his hair caught fire. 

Dr. Narbon grinned. “See? She’d make a great science project. Heh heh.” 

Rosalind sat on a swivel chair amongst her grandmother’s computers and machinery, and began to twirl around on it. “Hey, what’s this stuff?” she said, holding up a vial full of a viscous substance. It sparkled oddly when she held it to the light. 

“Careful with that, pumpkin!” shouted Helen. She darted under a table and motioned Sweetheart to follow. “Sweetheart,”she hissed under her breath. “We need that vial.” 

“Why? What’s in it?” 

“You see where Rosalind got it? It was sitting on top of an electron microscope. I think she was looking for nanomachines.” 

Sweetheart cocked her head quizzically. “You mean you think it’s Unity’s blood?” 

Helen nodded. “It has to be.” 

“So what good will it do us?” Both instinctively ducked as a muffled explosion rang out amidst laughter from Unity and battle cries from Mell. 

“On the way over, you were telling me about your trip to Idaho. You said Unity’s blood contains all that’s necessary to form a complete instance of her.” 

“Well, yes, but in the jar she’s pretty helpless, and in another body there’s usually some kind of rejection reaction.” 

“Because most bodies aren’t designed for her, is that right?” 

“What are you suggesting, Helen? We build her a new body?” snapped Sweetheart. “I know you’re good, but I didn’t think you could work that fast.” 

Helen shook her head. “How did they build her body in the first place? For the brain, they needed a perfectly tailored genome.” 

“And we’ve got – “ Sweetheart trailed off. “Oh. You really think it will work?” 

“Do you have a better idea?” 

“No. Let’s try it.” Sweetheart dashed back out into the lab. “All right, kid,” she shouted in Rosalind’s direction. “You like puppies? How about we play fetch?” 

Rosalind glanced from Dr. Narbon, to Sweetheart, to the vial in her hand. Over Dr. Narbon’s shouts, she tossed it gracefully through the air to Sweetheart, who caught it gently in her mouth. 

“All right, Mell,” called Helen as Sweetheart raced toward them. “Drink this!” 

“What?” yelled Mell over the crackle of her laser gun. “What the hell _is_ it?” 

“Nanites. You’ll be fine,” Helen shouted back. “Just down it like a tequila shot.” 

“Can’t I get some salt or a lime wedge?” 

“Just do it already!” 

Mell dropped the gun and took the vial from Helen. She uncorked it, examined its contents for a moment, and then tipped it back in one swift motion. 

Instantly she began to feel a prickling sensation, running down her throat and then throughout her body. She could sense something, a consciousness, like herself but not herself, unfurling in her mind. 

_Hello?_ she asked it, tentatively. 

_Hi!_ it said. _It’s me, Unity!_

_Oh. Hi_ , replied Mell, dimly aware that the entire conversation was folded into a matter of moments as she crouched behind a pillar. _Uh, you know you’ve been kidnapped, right?_

_Yeah. By Evil Grandma. Bummer._

_We came here to bail you out_ , Mell said, or perhaps thought. _Only now you’re all smart and you don’t want to come with us. We think she’s got you doped._

_Ooh, Smart Me is bad news. Well, good luck._

_That’s it?_ If Mell had been speaking out loud, she would have yelled it. _You’re in my head and you can’t even help me?_

_I didn’t say that. But you gotta talk to me. I mean Smart Me._

_It never worked before_ , said Mell.

 _That’s because the only person who can out-me Smart Me is me,_ Unity explained. _Even if I’m you, Smart Me will listen to me. Get it?_

_Um. I think so._

Mell took a deep breath and ran straight toward Unity- or rather, the Unity outside her head. She jumped over Dave, who was lying on the floor reaching for his glasses, knocked a flamethrower from Unity’s hand in one smooth motion, and pinned her against a wall.

“How did you _do_ that?” said Unity. “You’re not Mell. She moves her hips more when she runs; your gait is completely different.”

“Half right!” said Mell. “I’m Mell, but I’m also you. The real you.”

Unity chuckled and pried herself out of Mell’s grasp. “The dopey misfit who’s wasting her potential with a gaggle of bureaucratic do-gooders?”

“Yup. Cut the crap, Unity. Dr. Narbon’s screwing with your head. You really think you belong with A-Sig? Oh sure, they think you’re a shiny toy, but as far as they’re concerned, you’re no different from a smart bomb or a tank. “

“Do you really think I’m incapable of getting what I want from them?” said Unity, glowering. “I’m a killing machine, plain and simple. Anasigma is willing to let me live up to my potential; Dr. Narbon will keep me in enough brains to know what to do with it. I can’t lose.”

“You’re bluffing,” said Mell. “I know you, because now I _am_ you. And I know that you’re _happy_ at Skin Horse. You’ve got friends there. Come on, how could you abandon Sweetheart?” she said, her voice rising. “And Tip, and even Nick? You’re just gonna kick ‘em to the curb?”

“They’re weak,” spat Unity.

“Sure, they can be a little squeamish,” said Mell, “but that’s why you protect them! You wouldn’t do that for Dr. Narbon. Anasigma can get blown off the face of the Earth for all you care. But you like Skin Horse. You _need_ them.”

“You’re the _old_ me,” Unity retorted.

“Yeah, but so are you under there. You’ve been brainwashed.”

“It’s true, Unity,” said Sweetheart. “When you’re smart, you’re smarter than this. She played you, Unity. But we want the real you back.”

“Guys,” Dave called. “About that.”

Helen ran up with a bottle. “Thanks for the extra time, Mell. This should counteract the psychoactive agents my mother used to brainwash Unity, without any effect on her intelligence.” She plunged a syringe into Unity’s arm. “At least, it should if I got the dosage right…”

Unity blinked. “I feel funny. And I kinda want to punch your mom. Am I still smart?”

“What’s the square root of five hundred seventy-two?” asked Caliban.

“23.9165,” said Unity. “Oh, thank goodness. Let’s head home before she can lure me back into her trap with a ham on rye.”

“Awww, how cute,” said Dr. Narbon, giving Rosalind’s chair a spin. “Shame about your soft side, Melody. You were such a promising kid. Heh heh. Anyway, I don’t need Unity’s cooperation. It was nice while I had it, but together with Anasigma I can build counter-nanites that will keep her on my side indefinitely.”

“Now hang on, Dr. Narbon,” said Artie. “Let’s try to be reasonable adults about this.”

“All right,” she said, licking her lips. “What do you say we try to be reasonable adults over a nice rosé? Tonight, my bedroom, around nine-thirty?”

“Oh, that does it,” snapped Artie as he lifted Dr. Narbon off the ground.

“Now that’s more like it!” she crowed as he hurled her over the back wall of the platform.

“Grandma!” shouted Rosalind.

“That wasn’t very far to fall,” Caliban pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to know what was in that vat she landed in,” said Helen.

“Oh come on,” said Mell. “I’ve seen that woman’s disembodied head in a hatbox and she was totally fine. Let’s go.”

 

“ **Frappe** , I was starting to worry about you **snails** ,” said Nick, starting his rotors. “I mean, flying home alone would really **sink**.”

“Well, Nick,” said Helen, “we have you and your colleagues to thank for a lot of it.”

"Indeed," said Artie. "Here's to Skin Horse!"

“And Mell,” said Unity. “She ran a copy of me in her own brain in order to liberate me from Dr. Narbon’s control. Makes the whole family-reunion thing worthwhile, really.”

Mell blushed. “Aww, you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” said Unity with a grin. “Would you care to go paintballing when I’m back to… well, normal?”

“Sure. And speaking of getting back to normal… well, the you in my head is down to seventeen bottles of ooze on the wall.”

“Ah.” Unity grimaced. “I guess the nanite transfusion took a little too well. I suggest ipecac when we get home.”

“Oh, what the hell,” said Mell. “You take one down, pass it around…” She motioned for Caliban and Dave to join in.

“That’s it, I’m turning my **fracturing** ears off.”

“Hey Sweetheart? said Rosalind shyly.

“Yes?”

“Remember when you said I could give you one tummy rub if we didn’t mess up the mission?”

“I don’t recall…” Sweetheart looked into Rosalind’s eyes and relented. “Oh, all right. Just one.”


	4. Epilogue

“Mom! Mom!” said Rosalind excitedly, running up the front steps.“Grandma’s Christmas card got here while we were gone!”

Helen slit open the envelope to reveal a photo of Dr. Narbon in an oversized sweater with “SLAY RIDE” written across the front.She was holding a coffee mug and a box of hot chocolate mix. Suspiciously pink droplets were rising from the mug and drifting past her face.

“You’re holding that the wrong way,” said Dave. “I think she’s in zero gravity.”

Helen turned the photo over. On the back it read:

DEAR BETA AND DAVE,

THANKS FOR THE VISIT. MOST FUN I’VE HAD IN YEARS.

GIVE MY LOVE TO ROSALIND. MAYBE I’LL INVITE HER TO VISIT FOR HER BIRTHDAY.

OR MAYBE I’LL STOP BY. HEH HEH.

MOM


End file.
